


CI6 Ficlet Collection

by DarchangelSkye



Category: Canadian Idol RPF, Canadian Music RPF, Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Comfort, Ficlet Collection, First Kiss, Hugs, Insomnia, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Wordcount: 100-2.000, Written in 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:29:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarchangelSkye/pseuds/DarchangelSkye





	CI6 Ficlet Collection

The first time they kiss is barely minutes before Omar arrives for rehearsal, adding a sense of desperate urgency and a little bit of that danger the younger man apparently gets off on. Drew can taste the sugary sweetness of ice tea, not that it's a problem; every time he relaxes in the sun with a cold one, he'll remember this moment.

The question of where to put their hands is answered when Gary cups the back of the older man's head and grips his hands so their fingers lace together. It's sturdy and comforting and honestly, perfect.

Their lips are barely apart from each other for more than a second, and no kiss lands in the same position twice. Off-center, dead-on, above, below, feathery, intense- Drew can feel his knees buckle and it takes so much composure not to fall right off the stool.

Finally Gary pulls back (gently tugging on Drew's lower lip with his teeth as he does so) and a long, warm breath trickles from him. Drew opens his eyes and can see the young man smiling sweetly at him. He feels excited and awkward, like being 15 all over again. Would going for another kiss be too much? What can he say that isn't too sappy?

Gary breaks the silence by nodding and saying matter-of-factly, "I was right, you _do_ kiss better than Mulroney."

The tension is broken and Drew can't help it. He dissolves into helpless giggles and leans his forehead against the young man's.

***

Mookie has no real explanation for why he's sitting alone in the kitchen at this hour, doing something as mind-numbing as reading a recipie for dip on the back of a cracker box. After another long day of rehearsal, with no one having seen each other since breakfast, he supposes he's running on the bizarre auto-pilot that happens when he can't sleep.

His eyes slide over the type and he feels _ennui_ set in. _I know we're supposed to have Kraft products in the house, but you think they'd spring for some decent food too._ That's what this long week has done to him, making his mind spout non-sequiters.

The heavy plod of footsteps sound behind Mookie and he turns to see Earl. If he didn't know better he'd swear those are the same clothes Earl wore before they left the mansion, a faded sweatshirt and jeans that look too big even for his lanky frame. His face is pinched and tired, reminding Mookie of an old turnip. Even the messiness of his hair is worrisome.

"Coffee," Earl says in the same monotone a movie zombie would say "brains." "I need coffee."

He doesn't look at Mookie the whole time, even if the teen can't tear his eyes away. Clumsily he retrieves a mug from the cupboard and heads right for the coffeemaker. (Say what you will about Mark, at least he always makes sure there's a brew ready for everyone.) Without a word Earl fills the mug, takes a heady sip, and leaves the kitchen as plodding as he entered.

Mookie feels too cold all of a sudden. When he hears Earl's door slam upstairs and a blast of prerecorded music for his song that week, the teen feels a tight lump form in his throat. He tries going back to the recipie.

"Chop two tomatoes and a small onion."

He pushes the box away and lays his weary head on his arms.

***

Theo almost thinks Mitch is preoccupied by a message on his phone, but stepping over reveals the young man just looking down into folded hands.

He taps Mitch's shoulder. "Dude, we gotta be onstage soon."

Mitch looks up and blinks awkwardly. Either he's still not fully used to the new contacts or he was off in his own little world. "Ummm...uh..."

This? Doesn't look good. "You feeling all right?" Theo asks and leans a hand against the wall.

The young man looks to the ceiling and lets out a breath that puffs his cheeks and never fails to remind Theo of Flounder. "Nah, I'm not sick, I...I just don't feel like going out there." He nods in the direction of the dressing rooms. "I don't think Drew likes me very much right now."

"Hmm." Theo half-shuts his eyes and bites his bottom lip. It's always a struggle with Mitch whether to be honest or diplomatic, yet this time as always, sensitivities win out. "It's been a rough couple of weeks," he says carefully and nods. This isn't the time for laying blame anywhere, even if anyone deserves it. "He really loved those guys."

"Yeah," Mitch says quietly and downcasts his eyes. "And I'm kinda jealous," he drops his voice even more.

Theo tilts his head. "What was that?"

"I said I'm too nervous...to face him." It's a feeble lie and even Mitch knows it. His cheeks redden.

Theo can't call him out on it, what good would it do? Instead he drops his arm so it gently lies around the young man's shoulders.

"I'll walk with you."

Mitch looks up so they're eye-to-eye again. His face is still red, but now there's nothing to be worried about.

***

The slurring moan of the guitar playing under Mookie's fingers always excites him, the kind of stoking that could light a fire if someone had the match. The dressing room's dim lights don't dampen his mood any.

In one fluid motion (always the way he works), Drew enters the room, drops the bag of cymbals and drumstucks at his feet, strips off his sweaty shirt, and grabs a beer from the cooler.

"Change of plans," he says simply. "We're puttin' the Bowie medley at the end."

Mookie stops his playing and looks up as hurt as if Drew added, "And I just kicked your puppy." "But we always have it before intermission!"

The older man retrieves a fresh shirt from the rack and pulls it on, his perfectly compact frame disappearing once more. "Not when there's rumors floating about an A&amp;R from Columbia Records being in the audience tonight and we want to finish with a bang to impress them." He steps so he's practically nose-to-nose with Mookie, adds in an exaggerated accent, "You understand dis t'ing, bwana?" and pokes his forehead.

The teen looks to the bass case on the floor stamped with _Property of Big Earl- DNFT._ "Does Earl know about this?"

"He will," Drew almost makes it sound ominous.

Mookie scoffs and purposely starts on the chords for "Man Who Sold The World". "Funny, I coulda sworn we were called Equals 3, not Drew and the Pussycats!"

"Don't tempt me, kiddo," the drummer quips and stands straight again. "If landing a proper deal means making a couple changes, so what? No more second-rate clubs, no more emptying our pockets to get our CDs sold- don't you wanna get away from that? In case you've forgotten, I'm not getting any younger."

Mookie could easily refute that last part, since Drew's slender height and five o'clock shadow could still have him pass as a college heartthrob (not to mention deep blue eyes the girls moan over, while his and Earl's were just plain and boring). But he's not letting his guard down during a confrontation. "I don't know _why_ we stay with you," he mutters.

Even in the crummy lights, Mookie can see the scheming twinkle in Drew's deep eyes. Before he can duck, Drew grabs the sides of his face (with calloused fingers, no less) and covers the teen's mouth with a heavy kiss. He holds tight to his guitar so he won't flail and drop it (wouldn't be the first time).

Drew pulls away with a loud, wet smack, licks his lips, and simply says, "That's why," before gracefully exiting the dressing room.

***

There's no tears, no anger, no ponderings about what could've been. They're all too numb for that kind of emotion at this point, after the weeks have taken their toll.

Instead, while they huddle close together like orphaned puppies in the rain, there are softly-spoken promises not to give up or forget. There are declarations of friendship sworn over and over again. There are memories recalled with soft chuckles until someone becomes on the verge of crying. There are gentle kisses on cheeks and fingers threaded together, actions to bond them forever.

And always, no matter what, there is love.

***

He wants to freeze this moment, coat it in diamond, and keep it on his shelf forever more. Letting go is becoming less and less of an option, as if he knows it'll mean forever, silly an idea as it is.

Not that he can exactly convince either of their racing hearts.

Theo interrupts his racing thoughts and the roar of the crowd with a whispered, "Dude, I gotta sing soon."

Mitch can hear the tightening in Theo's throat and feel cool wetness against his cheek. He'll wipe away those tears later, now is Theo's time. But first-

"One more?"

"Mm-hmm."

When he lifts Theo off his feet and twirls him around with pure joy, the laughter from the other man is as sweet as any song.


End file.
